Flowers in London and The Veil at the National Theatre

(sort of continued from my last post)

DAY 2
LONDON

Stranger things

On Sundays in London, theatres are dark and most people have the day off.  On Sundays, people who live in Birmingham, pretty villages and even Ipswich can more or less easily swing down to London for the afternoon.  So Sundays in London are the perfect time to meet up with old friends at trendy Australian cafés in Clerkenwell, exchange birthday presents from the past 4 years, and bum around Farringdon vintage shops.  Sundays in London are perfect for visiting the insanely crowded and colourful Columbia Flower Market and sitting in an old pub’s back garden, sipping half pints of cider and lime and soda.  And then maybe go home and watch X-Factor and Downton Abbey.

Columbia Flower Market

DAY 3
London

Bright and early on Monday morning, I boarded the red double-decker bus (I am getting better and better at buses in London and I’m not afraid to boast about that) to the National Theatre, yet again.  The lobby was full of excitable teenagers and, for a second, I thought that maybe I didn’t stand a chance of getting a ticket for that night’s performance of Conor McPherson’s The Veil.  But turned out they were there for a theatre tour and I sauntered up to the box office and got a £12 front row ticket for the play I’d flown across the Atlantic for.  Phew. Sometimes it’s better not to book ahead.

With that out of the way, I skipped all the way to the city for coffee with a friend I met literally 10 years ago when I was backpacking around Scotland on my very first solo trip. Life has zigzagged both of us across the globe and back again since our rainy road trip in search of fairy glades on the Isle of Skye.  But here we were, at the not-so-glamorous Cafe Nero with its nothing to write home about coffee (but good enough to write on this blog about, I guess).  Time, eh?  It goes by.

A new play! Conor McPherson! The National Theatre!

But The Veil.  I’d read a lukewarm review and I had prepared myself.  I tried not to expect another Weir, This Lime Tree Bower or I Went Down (one of the top Irish road-trip-buddy-gangster movies of all time).  I was hoping it wouldn’t be like The Eclipse, which caused sleepless nights even though I only made it through 25 minutes of this terrifying movie (not because it isn’t an excellent film-it is- but I like sleep and I like not to be terrified and I didn’t want to be terrified after this play since I’d have to walk to the tube in the rain in the dark by myself). But I didn’t need to lower my expectations.  I loved The Veil.  It was creepy and beautiful and spooky and hilarious and surprising and heart-wrenching.  I am not exaggerating when I say I laughed, cried, and jumped out of my skin.

Sitting in the front row, with no chance for a tall person sitting in front of me (I’m short, by the way), but next to a man from Los Angeles who was doing exactly the same thing as me (in London for a short time to see plays), I felt totally immersed in the atmosphere.  Cheesy as it sounds, I felt transported.

Ghosts and séances, pretty dresses and nightmares, unrequited love and disquiet souls… And, alright, I’m not going to lie: it was great to see Peter McDonald on stage as a tormented, love-sick, violence-prone, alcohol-soaked man servant.

Even in less than stellar plays (Resurrection Blues, ahem), McDonald is able to serve up all the depth, humour, and humanity you need to sit still and listen.  I won’t gush too much, but let’s just say that after I saw I Went Down (one of the top Irish road-trip-buddy-gangster movies of all time starring Peter McDonald), I may or may not have learned some html to make a silly fansite for him when silly fansites for actors were the norm (oh, back in 1998).  Or are those still around and I’m just old?

If you are in London and are up for a little travel back to misty, magical 19th century Ireland for a good ghost story/love story/family drama/spiritual investigation, don’t miss The Veil. You’ve got until December 11th.

Coming up: a play in a pub, one with real turf, one about selectively mute twins, and one starring Michael Sheen.  Also: cute cafés and getting very lost indeed.

Haunted Toronto

With Hallowe’en coming up and my mission to play the tourist in my own city (along with a 50% off coupon), my  hat-and-mitts clad friend and I signed up for a ghost tour of Toronto.

On what felt like the coldest night of the year so far, we trekked around downtown with Steve from Tour Guys, learning about Toronto’s history through the stories of the ghosts that haunt it.

For someone who can’t watch a scary movie without living in a petrified daze for days, I do like hearing about weird, spooky, creepy and bloody events.   So I was fascinated by the tales of the ghosts (and some of their bloody or tragic ends) haunting our old buildings.  And many of those buildings happen to be theatres.

We stopped at the back of the Eglin and Wintergarden theatre, whose blackened bricks betray the theatre’s age, history, and–on this dark and windy night complete with one-eyed homeless man yelling about the Salem witch trials– its creepiness.  The front and inside of the theatres (the only double-decker theatre left in the world) are quite pretty.

Winter Garden Theatre (don't touch the leaves!) Photo by Hill Peppard City of Toronto Archives, Series 881, File 53

We found out about the seedy past of the theatre and about seats folding down by themselves, as if a row of invisible people were sitting down for a show. We learned about Sam, the resident ghost of a trombonist who fell into the orchestra pit to his death, and about a woman in Edwardian dress that sometimes mingles among the living patrons in the lobby.

But Steve didn’t tell about the theatre’s most famous ghost (at least according to the internet): the Lavender Lady.  A young woman was stabbed in the upstairs washroom of the Winter Garden and, before she died, she dragged herself through the lobby and pressed the elevator button for help.  By the time the elevator got to the fifth floor, it was too late.

Apparently, the air sometimes fills with the aroma of her lavender perfume and the elevators get called up to the top floor when no one has actually called it up…  OOoooh!

[The original elevators are still in use and require an operator, which was one of the most fun things about seeing a movie there during TIFF.  Seeing the leaves hanging from the theatre’s ceilings up close was also fun- they’re real, believe it or not.  You can’t touch them.  The ushers will get mad and yell at you if you try.]

We also found out that the Ryerson costume room is haunted.  It used to be part of a medical school… the room where cadavers were studied, complete with a chute for body parts that had served their purpose.  Fun times!

That was Friday night.

Saturday night, I went to Matchbox Macbeth presented by Litmus Theatre. I must admit, it was the fact that it was staged in a secret location that got me.

The little audience met at a corner in Little Italy, huddling together with coffees and commenting on the windy cold night being perfectly atmospheric for the Scottish play. Weirdly, it wasn’t raining.  We were led through Toronto’s alleyways by the hilarious Mariel, avoided a car and puddles, and were greeted by a fantastic little magical preamble before entering a garage/shed for the performance.  For an idea of what this was all about, check out the trailer for the show here:

The wind whistling through the wooden slats, the expert use of the shed’s acoustics (is there anything freakier than witches scratching at the door?), and minimal lighting made for a perfectly spooky and immediate Macbeth.

At only one hour long, as you can imagine much of the text was cut out. The very abridged version was a bit choppy and probably slightly confusing if you didn’t already know the story.  And I’m not sure what I thought of having Macbeth so mild-mannered (I didn’t really get a chance to see his ambition, the driving force of the play) or Tori Amos lines replacing the famous “out damned spot” monologue (which could have helped explain why the queen was suddenly dead at one point), but that’s small potatoes compared to the amazing experience that the magical shed offered.

The use of candles and everyday objects and the full use of the intimate space were original and engaging.  The apparition of Banquo’s ghost, a usually problematic staging moment, was done simply with great effect. Freaky.  I have no idea if it was planned, but I thought it was pretty amazing that the air smelled like basil during the supper scene.  (Or was it the ghost of the Basil Lady?)

Hurry up and get your ticket.  There aren’t many seats in that shed, but there are a few performances left.  Get your tickets here.  Do it.